


Love, Ire, and Stuffing

by AnAlbanyExpression



Category: Let's Play (Webcomic)
Genre: Acceptance, Budding Love, Conflict, Crushes, Cute, F/M, Family, Fluff, Growth, Holidays, Thanksgiving Dinner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23801695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnAlbanyExpression/pseuds/AnAlbanyExpression
Summary: Sam and Charles have personal conflicts regarding Thanksgiving. Each one, proving to compliment the other to a T. Charles, prepared to spend it alone, as is routine. Sam, dreading the dinner she must share with the overbearing men in her life. Luck should have it that they express said qualms to each other following a long afternoon at work. Within the comfortable confines of his car, they come to an agreement that would ultimately prove itself monumental for years to come.
Relationships: Charles Jones/Sam Young (Let's Play)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 94





	1. An Invitation

"The Marly project definitely won't be ready for testing in three weeks. Maybe four, though I'll have to check in with Jacob to see if he's ironed out the GUI well enough to even think about taking this software for a trial run." 

Charles nodded, updating the calendar on his laptop to that effect as Samara dutifully relayed the team's predicted schedule for the month of December. He typed hastily, despite her patience. She had stayed a little later today than what was expected of her, insisting that she assist him in sorting the disheveled mess of details regarding a job that was newly underway. While her help was undoubtedly appreciated, he didn't wish to keep her. Well, okay, he didn't wish to keep her _at work_. For, it would be a gargantuan lie if Charles were to claim against there being a flock of butterflies fluttering restlessly within his abdomen.

Annoying shocks of nerves and giddiness, the blush upon his neck reflected a snuggly feeling she inspired throughout him. A sign which read that he was crushing on this particular woman over an elaborate, stupidly long list of qualities that she so unknowingly harbored. The one which currently plagued him, being her willingness to abandon a free afternoon in favor of his company, running across his tundra of a heart like the heat of a lover's caress. 

For that, of course, he chastised himself. A bit of a frown overcoming his face as he observed the pen she was twirling between her fingers. Her own attention engrossed by the agenda sitting atop her lap. _She isn't here for you_.

"Is that all?" He asked, smirk intruding his tone a bit as he mused over the fact that she had distracted herself somehow. Again, feeling sad and all too mortified at how much he adored her idiosyncrasies. He didn't let it show, of course. Amusement stapled upon his expression, gaze softening when she finally looked up at him once more. Before he could mandate it's teasing glint. _Oh, but her eyes…_

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, I just spotted something I forgot about." She blushed, though smiled at herself, anyway. Taking her failure to maintain focus on the work schedule in good humor. His grin became genuine at that. _She's getting better._

"No worries." He breathed, closing his Skylights computer before standing to gather his briefcase, satisfied with the hour's productivity. Moreso, ready to take Samara home following the inconvenience. 

It was odd, Charles suspected as he donned his jacket once more. Refusing to look up and fall victim to the hypnotizing sight of Samara bent over a chair, retrieving the satchel from beneath it with a "hmph." He couldn't say that he's ever felt out of line for accepting extra help from an employee before, particularly not from an assistant. Of course she'd offer a hand. Beyond it being her source of income, she's exceedingly capable and driven with her tasks. Despite knowing that, however, Charles couldn't pretend away the feeling of dread that accompanied this idea that he'd inspired negativity into her day. 

Which, again, was ridiculous. He straightened the cuff of his sleeve with a harsh tug at the thought. If anything, he should be relieved to consider the possibility of giving her a reason to push him away. _It's as if you've learned nothing._

Sam waited before his desk, adjusting her glasses as she observed his movements. Graceful as ever, if not for a peculiar stiffness evident throughout his form. Making it seem as if he felt tense or unsure about something. It was a fact which morphed her ease into something more unsettled, though she didn't ask. Even if she were worried, Sam had taken note of how Charles was never really the type to talk about himself. It would be inconsiderate to push boundaries, understanding the fragile balance that existed between being friends and remaining professional. Though, she also figured that under said guidelines, they could only ever stay true to one or the other. Despite how she wished their relationship could be centered in an entirely different light. _Ugh, enough!_

"Do you have the time?" She asked, more concerned with tearing through the silence than actually knowing the hour, though she figured that couldn't hurt as she considered the pup at home who still needed walking.

She noticed him flinch, not entirely facing her before referencing his watch. It wasn't anything harsh or lasting, but it had appeared upon her query. She blinked, the infamous tent manifesting itself across her brow, spelling out her worried confusion. _What the heck is going on with him?_

"6:10" he answered, taking on an apologetic tone. She blinked once more, only to smile, touched upon realizing his guilt. Touched, and eager to rid him of it all the same.

"Woof. Good thing I stuck around. You would've been here overnight." She laughed, almost teasing to invite good nature inside their interaction. Reviving the typical spark of banter that accompanied them past business hours, as of late. Sam was downright jovial to see that it had worked, Charles offering a snort in response as he finally met her gaze, gesturing for her to walk to the door alongside him. She did, playing along with his gentleman's routine of opening his door for her to exit first, as always. She blushed a little, even so. The man could be predictable as rain, and it wouldn't matter. Sam would always fluster for him.

"It wouldn't be the first time." He sighed as she walked past, causing her to turn as he locked the door behind him. 

"You're kidding." She spoke with dread, surprising him a bit with her concern when he locked eyes with her once more. _Whoops._

"Charles, you've spent the night in this office?" She continued, refusing to drop it even as he kept walking towards the elevator. Attempting to play it off, despite Samara's insistence. _You can't lie to her now._

"On a few occasions, yes. Though, I wouldn't worry yourself with it," he suggested, lifting a hand to press the down button upon their arrival. "... It's only done when necessary. Your father trusts me to dedicate myself to this position, Miss Young." The doors slid open, giving him a reason to look ahead once more. "I do what I can to uphold at least that much." He finished, grinning despite how depressing that sounded in her ears.

Sam stepped into the elevator to stand beside him, a tsunami of empathy washing over her as she watched him hit the button for their parking garage. She ignored his previous advice, for she found it impossible to just drop him doing something that seemed so unhealthy. So stressful. Just because all her dad saw in him was work ethic?

"You shouldn't expect that much from yourself." Her words were softened by the recollection of her own battle towards maintaining her father's trust, in spite of his dramatics and over-protective nature. "Especially not for my dad. I've always felt that he treats you unfairly." She finished, looking at Charles in their reflection. His smile never wavered, though he could hear the sympathy in her tone. Though said acknowledgement pained him with how it compelled a flutter to interrupt his heartbeat.

"Ah, but he is my boss. Besides, he's never asked that I stay late." He reassured with a glance, the elevator doors smoothing open once more at their stop. He nodded, encouraging her to walk ahead. Instead, she stilled him with her gaze, chocolate brown never parting with baby blue as her thin arm rose to press against the door's side. 

"Then, I don't think you should even consider it until he does." She finished, maintaining her air of seriousness for seconds longer before dropping the aforementioned arm and abandoning the lift. Leaving Charles to bite the inside of his cheek as he felt heat spread across his face. He could get used to seeing his little lamb bunt those horns a bit more. _Oh fy nuw._

He was quick to follow her, using the advantage in his longer stride to reach the car moments before she did. Opening the passenger side door with a smirk, he was determined to continue their interaction in a positive manner. Admittedly excited to see where it would go, in terms of conversation. He closed her door as she cozied herself in the seat, damn near jogging around to his own side with an energy that he couldn't explain. Even just talking to her, he thought, was something worth cherishing. _She's just so consuming._

"May I ask what you'd forgotten about, earlier?" Charles queried upon starting the car, trying not to distract himself with the way her delicate fingers worked at massaging her neck while he turned to pull out of the parking space. She rolled her eyes at his question, gazing outside as she considered her answer. 

"It's silly, but Thanksgiving is tomorrow. Dinner at my parents' place, you know?" She chuckled lightly, index finger tracing the side of her jaw as she went on. "Just seems like the kind of thing I'd remember." She shrugged, head rolling to stare at his profile while he exited the garage. He lifted an eyebrow, lips quirked upward in a curious grin.

"Is it really? Huh." He laughed while turning onto the road. "I thought that had already passed, to be honest." 

She sighed, lips pursing as her own brows lifted a bit. "I'm afraid not." 

Charles' expression grew even more speculative at that, amused though gentle as he carried their conversation further. "You seem terribly unenthusiastic about it." He drawled, actually sort of thankful for the traffic as it allotted him the opportunity to glance her way. Though, his humorous mood shriveled a bit with the sight of her exhausted expression. 

"Do I?" She rested her chin upon her hand, reminiscing over the contrast between the Thanksgivings as adult Sam, versus the Thanksgivings of a decade ago. The difference between waiting for the coddling to stop and accepting that it never will. Loving her family, despite how she felt like an outlier in their presence. Afraid to speak of anything risky or exciting in her life at the possibility of being met with her father's worried disapproval. Or, hearing her brother's unwarranted reprimands regarding the maintenance of her health. _At least mom and Ruth will keep me company_.

"Parties aren't really my scene." She explained, knowing that it was the truth as much as it was unrelated to her dread. But, of course, even irrelevant honesty could never slip past her boss's radar.

"Somehow, I don't believe that to be the extent of your woes towards this dinner," he responded, eyes glued to the road before them. "...would you prefer I drop it?"

She shook her head, though he wasn't looking at her, and exhaled deeply. Honestly, feeling sort of light to have an outlet other than Bowser to express her discontentment with. Selfishly enough, Charles' own struggles with her father made the whole explanation seem justified on her tongue, despite the guilt that accompanied it.

"No, it's okay. And, you're right. I love my family, but getting together with them can be…pretty agonizing sometimes." He nodded, turning to her at a stop light and offering his attention. Imploring her to continue. She sighed again.

"Dad is dad, so that's one thing." She breathed a laugh, twiddling her thumbs in her lap. "And, Jay is Jay. So, there's another."

Charles let out a string of chuckles in response to that elaboration, the light turning green as his attentions were diverted towards driving once more. "And, somehow, it all makes sense." He managed through his giggles. She chortled a little herself, grateful for his ability to so simply lift her spirits. Just by lending an ear. Even his presence alone was enough to calm her nerves. Which would've sounded totally ridiculous to the Sam of six months ago. _Funny, how he once made me so uncomfortable._

"What about you?" She asked, interrupting their laughter. He smirked.

"What about me?" Charles returned, amusement ridden throughout his voice. "Who are you eating with tomorrow?" She explained, smiling cluelessly in his direction. He glued the grin upon his face, though he knew she'd be discontent with his confession.

"Nobody. I've never celebrated with anyone in the U.S., and Thanksgiving isn't exactly a thing in Britain." Charles mandated that his tone remain light, desperate to keep the atmosphere happy in spite of his words. _It's really not as bad as it sounds, Bunty._

"Really? Oh, well, why don't you join us this year?" She offered, making him blink with shock at how instantly that rolled off of her tongue. Not laced with pity or remorse of any kind. It took a minute for him to even consider a response, engrossed by the fire that erupted in his chest. He faked a tiny laugh, maintaining the grin across his face.

"I wouldn't want to impose, Samara. Adding an extra guest the day before might put a damper on your parents' efforts." _Not to mention, their moods._

She tsked, waving a hand at Charles. As if she's completely forgotten about her father's potent dislike for him. "Oh, don't worry about that. We always make way too much food, anyway. Besides," she paused, weighing her next words before letting herself voice them aloud. "...I could really use a plus-one this year. Might, 'put a damper' on my parents' babying." 

He laughed again, at that. Pulling into the parking lot of her apartment complex, he killed the engine and gave her his full attention, at last. Feeling his smile become real again upon meeting those doe-like irises. She blushed, peeking at him through her eyelashes before lifting her chin to meet him head on. "More than anything, I'd hate to think that I just let you spend tomorrow all alone." Sam admitted, positively scorching Charles' heart beneath his lapels. Moving him to go against all better judgement, before logic could catch up with him. His soul rang true.

"It's a date, then."


	2. The Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A literal mishap within the Young family kitchen serves as a preview for the figurative fire that's to come, Samara admitting to Ruth on the way to Thanksgiving supper that she had invited a guest without so much as a word of it to her parents. Feeling guilty, though admittedly proud of her rebellion that was long overdue, Ruth and Sam share a moment alone in the Young Manor driveway. Not expecting an impromptu arrival to drive up in their wake.

"Honey, you're supposed to be peeling the potatoes." Mrs. Young giggled, betraying what was supposed to be a firm redirection upon her return to the kitchen, her husband acting painfully adorable as he struggled with preparing a roux for his infamous to-be gravy. _He tries at that every year._

Her heels flourished the tile in light taps as she walked closer to where he was bent over the stove. She came to a stop at the island, bracing her forearms upon its marble top. Smirking at him from behind as her voice pulled Samuel out of his unnatural concentration towards the pan he'd chosen to punish with this November's bubbling concoction of turkey fat and flour. 

Predictably, a soft smile overtook his face with the presence of his beloved. Turning away from his efforts upon the burner, he was quick to rest his own arms atop the surface that was supporting her weight, leaning in enough to station his face a measly inch or so before her own. She met his efforts by delicately pressing her forehead into his, both pairs of lips curving to form impossibly warm grins with their connection. 

She gave him an Eskimo kiss as she spoke, hands gripping her elbows while she let herself bask in his love for at least the billionth time. "You're really very sweet to keep trying, dear, but dinner is in half an hour…" she cooed, lifting her hand so she could snag a lose hair that had flown free of his gelled locks and smooth it back into submission, letting her palm float down and cup his jaw before continuing. "What use is gravy with a lack of mashed potatoes?" She chuckled, swiping a thumb across his cheek in order to wipe away a faint smudge of flour.

He gripped his heart, playfully. Brow never pulling away from hers as Samuel carried on with their little bit. "Oh, you hurt me, my love. To suggest that potatoes are the only starch worthy of being graced with my superior, Young family gravy." 

The hand at his chest rose as she laughed, using his index finger to lift her chin. The action implored her to meet his eyes once more, both of them melting into an even softer mush of love goo as their chortles ebbed away.

"You're right. I'll put Jay on potato duty, then. He's been lounging on the couch since Ruth left, anyway." She sighed, administering a quick peck upon her husband's lips before turning. Samuel was quick to step forward, however. Forgetting about his roux in light of keeping his wife for as long as he could manage, he took a gentle hold of her upper arm. Beaming down at her, he smoothed his palm up the length of her shoulder and neck, halting it's movement upon her cheek. She was barely given an opportunity to nuzzle into said palm before his head bowed, searing her lips in a kiss far more tender than the one she had offered his own seconds prior.

Her hands traveled up the height of his torso, coming to rest upon his broad shoulders as his unoccupied hand stationed itself at the small of her back. As usual, she was the first to begrudgingly halt their intimacy, actually a little panicked at the dinner that would seriously be starting in less than thirty minutes. _There's still so much to prepare._

"Oh, you really need to quit distracting me," she scolded, her tone laced with a warmth that lingered from their embrace. Softened to the near point of a coo as she squeezed his bicep, finally mustering the nerve to pull away, turning to sashay out of the arch that leads to the living room. "...we'll pick this up later, darling." She drawled over her shoulder, quiet and seductive. One of the many ways she knew to pay him back for his affections. 

He swooned with the way her words seemed to echo in the air, his frame taking on a reaction that seemed almost cartoonish as it displayed all of the telltale signs of "Lovesick". With a red face branded by the goofiest smile he could muster, the scent of a burning roux barely managed to overpower the intoxicating perfume of his partner, its presence lingering about the room as it did his soul. Until the fire alarm went off, that is.

"Shit! Dad, are you alright?" Jay called, running into the kitchen with his mother close behind, both of them pausing at the entrance to observe Samuel remain in a daze, lost in his stupor despite the smoke flying off of the results of a recipe he had managed to fail for the eighth year in a row. Jay ran forward, immediately taking to putting out the flames whilst hollering for his father to snap out of it. Mrs. Young, shaking her head where she stood, snorting a bit as she breathed a laugh and considered their typical holiday seasons.

_Somehow, I doubt this'll be the last fire we witness this evening._

***

Sam had subconsciously fallen within herself as she sat in the passenger seat of Ruth's maroon Honda Civic, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt, the weight of consequence heavy on her shoulders. Despite how the secret Sam upheld rendered her feeling a tad bit guilty, she also couldn't control the way her lips were noticeably turned up at their corners. Or the fingers she lifted to trace the outline of said lips as she watched the world pass by in a rush. 

"You seem really chipper today," Ruth mused, eyes never leaving the road with her attempt to spark a little small talk. _She usually looks way more anxious than this._ "Excited to see everyone?"

"Ah, no…" Sam spoke dreamily, gaze still fixated on analyzing the blur of green leaves and multicolored vehicles as they accompanied her buisied mind. She blinked before jumping to correct herself, turning away from the view that so easily managed to assist in distracting her. 

"I mean, yes, of course. But, that isn't…" She paused, contemplating how wise it would be to reveal her impromptu plus-one at this juncture. _If I tell her, she'll have to keep it a secret until Charles pops up for dinner. He's pretty punctual, so that probably won't be for long, but still…_

"Can I ask what is, then?" Ruth queried, light-hearted and humorous as she turned a nostalgic corner, one that Sam recognized as the five minute point away from her childhood home. A mischievous, deliciously unfamiliar sense of disobedience flowed throughout her with that turn. The acknowledgement of how close they were. Her rebellious smirk taking over a grin which was once purely jovial, if not a little anxious. _Huh. I'm…actually kind of excited about tonight._

"You swear to keep it in confidence?" Samara asked, that excitement infecting her tone before she pursed her lips, staring ahead as she reminisced over these familiar houses and street signs. Just like every year, if not for one _huge_ difference.

"You've got it." Ruth swore, intrigued by this side of her boyfriend's younger sibling. A side she had yet to witness in the subsequent four years she's known her. 

Sam bit her lip, that smile becoming even harder to tame as the confession swam out of her with a giggle. "I invited Charles to join us for dinner."

Ruth gasped, her own expression brightening with the memory of her friend's boss. "No way!" She laughed, the Young Manor coming into view at the far end of the road. "Yes way." Sam chuckled, happy to finally feel like a bit of a grown up this holiday.

Upon their pulling into the driveway, Ruth stopped the car and turned to her companion, effectively halting her mid unbuckle. "I'm guessing you haven't told the others." She grinned, smug though endeared by the blush that suddenly washed over Sam with her assumption. She nodded, her smile becoming more awkward as the nerves settled in her tummy once more.

"I know that Dad and Jay aren't very fond of him, but he was going to spend today alone. And, he's my friend…" She stopped, meeting Ruth's eyes with a genuine glint inside of her own, eyebrows tenting with warmth that the truth ignited within. "He's one of my best friends. I'm really excited to have him here, so, I didn't want to risk dad throwing a temper tantrum before he had the chance to show up." She explained, trying to justify her actions, even to herself. Still unable to ignore the guilt that nagged at her beside the rush of freedom her decision has provided. She'd even donned the outfit her mother had bought for her all that time ago, yellow skirt and foreignly tight shirt perfectly encapsulating her newfound--albeit unstable--ability to throw caution to the wind. Ruth's smile fell downcast a little at that.

"I feel you, Hon. But, this is still your parents' house. I promise I won't say anything to them, though I must advise that you let them know beforehand. At least when he's on his way." She softened the truth's blow with a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder, undoubtedly a habit she's picked up from her years of working with children.

Sam was grateful for the understanding beneath Ruth's guidance, despite how it did nothing to ease her culpability. She took a second to consider before squeezing her eyes shut and nodding with a sigh. It was exactly what she had been telling herself since she parted ways with Charles the night before. _Baby me or not, it doesn't give me an excuse to betray dad's wishes in his own home._

"Man, I really meant no harm…" She rested her forehead upon the flat of her hand, fear of the confrontation that might lie ahead forcing itself to the forefront of her consciousness with a cruel indifference towards her devotion to Charles' friendship. Ruth's gaze became worried with the hasty shift in Samara's mood, shaking her head at her sheltered, little, soon to be sister-in-law. 

"It's-"

Ruth was interrupted by the sound of faint, concrete rumbles from behind, the women looking towards one another in confusion before dread overcame both of their expressions. That was definitely another car. And, he was the only one yet to show up. Until now.

Sam bit her lip, her aforementioned worries shriveling a bit with the knowledge that he had made it. It was terribly strange, for even though he was the catalyst of everything that could possibly inspire conflict amongst her family for the rest of tonight, she still felt lighter knowing that he was here now. Ultimately, she deemed herself to be pretty awful as she made quick work of stepping out of the vehicle. Her Friendship emote-kun shoving Sam onward and patting her back, the both of them swooning upon catching a glimpse of swishy, blond hair as he too climbed out and away from his car. 

"Hello, Miss Young. Dr. Hadar." He greeted, eyes darting to Jay's lively girlfriend for a mere instant before traveling to land upon and stay glued to Samara's persistently adorable face. Taken aback by the happiness scrawled upon it with his presence. Happiness and…relief?

He walked forward, his own expression feeling soft and content as he rounded the car to approach his assistant. She had never abandoned her position beside the door she'd just exited, allowing herself the opportunity to bask in the tranquility he carried into this moment. This day. _I'll have to muster the courage to tell him how thankful I am. Eventually…_

"Thank you for the invitation. I've yet to partake in this particular American tradition. It's about time, yeah?" He laughed, hands stationed within his pockets. Looking down at her with a grin that was infinitely good natured, though there existed a subtle unnerved quality about his tone. One which didn't go unnoticed by either woman as they listened to his opening words. A pretence to the hours which lay ahead. He cursed himself for the anxiety that bubbled in his tummy, reaching an angry boil the longer he observed this woman. The more he was left to acknowledge how desperately, foolishly his heart ached for this to work out to a degree which he knew wasn't possible. _She just makes me so hopeful._

"I wish I had known earlier. My mom's quite the feeder, so portions tend to get kind of ridiculous when she's the one levying out the food. We could use an extra belly." She giggled, inspiring a faint blush to wash over his cheeks and the nape of his neck. He grinned, a childish wave of emotion brandishing his psyche with her jolities. It wasn't that he felt he was going to cry, or get upset. More than anything, it was a youthful, long forgotten glee that had escaped him for so many years. One he had failed to comprehend how much he missed. 

"In that case, I'm happy to volunteer, I'm famished." He lied. In truth, Charles had already eaten a burger before showing up, somehow managing to force it down with the overbearing presence of a hefty knot throughout his abdomen. Honestly anticipating the possibility of her father flat out turning him away, knowing that he'd be incapable of consuming anything after a rejection such as that. 

His nerves must've bled into his features, for he was quick to jump a little as Samara reached out and pet his bicep in reassurance. "It's gonna be okay, Charles. If nothing else, I'm so happy you came." 

Odd, how that was all it took for him to be swayed. Her honesty as it embraced his ears, like a Samara concerto that he felt endlessly blessed to accompany with his nod. His self-admonishing laugh escaping him within a sigh, the pair so lost in one another that Ruth couldn't help but curl her toes with the air about their chemistry. How electric they were to onlookers, yet so obviously comfortable and glad to one another. It endeared her to no end, so it pained her to interject. Knowing how Mrs. Young is such a stickler for the schedule, however, she was left with no greater option.

"I am too. Now, let's get inside. It's time to get our grub on." She pumped, successful in pulling chortles out of the two before turning on her heel and strutting towards the door. 

Charles, steading himself with one final breath, offered an arm to his astoundingly beautiful date. She took it with a snort, the two of them finding it within themselves to laugh whilst subconsciously signing an unwritten agreement. As they followed in Ruth's wake, they both stood to understand what should become of the decision they had made. With the touch of her hand upon his sleeve, the words they had exchanged. They knew that no matter what tonight has in store, they've got each other's backs in spite of everything.

**Author's Note:**

> All rights and credit should be directed towards Mongie, creator of the Webtoon Let's Play. Be sure to check her out on Instagram, (@mongrelmarie), and read Let's Play!


End file.
